Tiny Faces
by alicat54
Summary: "Alec didn't know what he was expecting when he opened the motel door with a key he pulled from a dead man's pocket, but it wasn't a shotgun pointed at his chest by a pint sized midget wearing his face." Alec finds himself back in time. Reversing the idea of Dean raising his clones. Supernatural Dark Angel crossover time travel
1. Chapter 1

...spn...

don't own any'tin

=spn drk angel=

Alec wasn't sure how exactly it happened, a blow to the head will do that to you, but between the green and black spots clouding his vision, there might have been a flash of light.

Then again his account might not be all that reliable.

The Nomalie which came with him might know (could this one even talk?) but it was on the other side of the clearing failing to recover from a bullet between the eyes.

The shooter lay nearby failing to recover from a crushed ribcage.

In retrospect, Alec would claim that he had some justification for what he did, but at the time it was impulsive.

The strange man had dark hair, a thick coat (which slid down Alec's shoulders when he tried it on), three IDs each with a different name (Donnavin, Smith, Winchester), fifty dollars and a credit card (under yet another name), and two sets of keys.

Alec examined the engraving on the bits of metal. One appeared to be for a car, several others might have been for safety deposit boxes or lockers, and the one separate from the rest of the bunch had the name of a motel and room number on the plastic top.

Kleptomania will be the end of him, but hopefully not today.

Spinning the key between his fingers the transgenic waltzed out of the woods. His day got better once he saw the car waiting for him beyond the trees.

=spndrkangel=

Alec didn't know what he was expecting when he opened the motel door with a key he pulled from a dead man's pocket, but it wasn't a shotgun pointed at his chest by a pint sized midget wearing his face.

"Who're you?" the kid demanded, his voice trying to growl, but coming out way too cute for Alec to take seriously.

_Winchester, _Alec could have hit himself. Of course the name was familiar, it was plastered across his file back at Manticore. Not that he was supposed to know anything in that file, but sticky fingers are good for more than just petty theft.

_Winchester, Dean._ _Son of Winchester, John, former marine. Fraud, Extortion, Theft, Mass Murderer. Exemplifies high ranking escape and survival skills. Subjected to delusions held by Winchester, John. Thought to be functioning under standing orders from deceased father. _

_Transgenic donor compatible: Yes._

This ten year old pointing a shot gun at his head would one day play as a, most likely unwilling, DNA template for a batch of little super soldiers.

Originally, Manticore scouted out John Winchester himself as a donor, his record in the marines being what it was, but for some reason changed targets mid way through observation. Alec guessed they saw some flaw in the elder Winchester which did not translate to his progeny.

But that wouldn't happen for a long time. Right now, Winchester, Dean, was a tiny kid in a run down motel.

Seriously, less than an hour in the past and he already practically ensured that he would not be born, or grown, or whatever.

With his father dead, Manticore would not go looking for the Winchester family and discover Dean, who would grow up to be a normal boy without his father's crazed delusions and orders molding him into a serial killer.

Alec supposed that was a good thing, saving lives and all, but he needed that kid's little head full of unquestionable orders and tactics so secret government organizations would snatch his DNA some time in the future.

But wait, did Alec even want to be born? If Dean remained below the radar Alec, and 493 for that matter, would never exist. All those people he killed and missions he completed would vanish. Was non- existence worth taking the higher moral ground here?

Hell no. Despite how messed up his life was, he would prefer it to never having lived.

His eye rolled over the gun to rest on the glowering face behind it. Alec smirked.

"I'm your uncle Alec."

"Dad didn't have any brothers."

"I'm from your mom's side of the family."

"Dad said she was an only child."

"We were cousins."

The ten year old's gaze- and god didn't it look just like him?- bore into the transgenic's. The smaller one, peaked out from behind his brother's back eyes alight with curiously.

"He looks like you Dean," the kid whispered, so softly Alec wouldn't have been able to catch it if his hearing was on par with a humans. "Quiet Sammy!" Dean hissed. Alec's smirk widened; one down.

"Where's our dad?" Dean's grip tightened against the trigger, but didn't pull. Alec too that as a good sign. He didn't want the kid to be ill at ease, which was why he hadn't disarmed him immediately (a weapon on hand always made Alec calmer).

"He's," Alec paused. How does one deal with children? You know, the ones who aren't owned by the government. He met the kid's hazel eyes. "You know what your dad does, right?"

Dark head flickered in the barest of nods. "Dad hunts monsters."

"Well, he ran into something too big to handle this time and-"

The smaller kid, Sammy's, eyes went wide at the implications of Alec's words. "Daddy's hurt?"

"Yeah," Alec lowered his voice in what TV assured was a comforting way. "Yeah, he's hurt real bad, and he asked me to take care of you."

Sammy's grip tightened on his brother's back, and plump tears began to slide down his cheeks. "When's daddy coming back?"

"Not for a long time."

Dean's face contorted in an expression Alec knew was capable of folding tear ducts so they wouldn't leak. "Dad said we should go to Pastor Jim if he ever got hurt."

"Yeah, I'm here to take you." Alec squatted down, to be more at eye level with the boys. "I don't think you're tall enough to reach the gas pedals, no matter how well you carry that gun." He pulled the keys he filched off the corpse and dangled them tantalizingly in front of his mini-maker.

The kid blinked and lowered the gun. "Those are for the Impala."

"Yep, I got them from your daddy." Well, after he was sure the man was dead, but whatever.

Dean scrutinized the man's face, searching for... something. Truth maybe.

"Ok," he said at last, though his hands remained close to his weapon. Alec approved.

=spndrkangel=

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	2. Chapter 2

...spn...

don't own any'tin

=spndrkangel=

The car ride to the home of 'Pastor Jim' was uneventful, mostly.

The boys efficiently packed up the room at Alec's order, handling the armory of blades and firearms with enough familiarity to make Alec flashback to his younger years.

Sammy, the younger, warmed up to Alec with relative ease, but Dean never took his eyes off the man or left them alone in the same room together. The ten year old even dragged Sammy into the bathroom with him.

Alec would have found this behavior amusing, if not for the fact that he was an unknown potential danger to these children and Dean was acting like a good little leader watching out for his unit.

Silence hung like a sheet cutting the car cleanly in two between the front and back seats. Sammy lay with his head on his brother's lap, eyes closed and sticky from dried tears. Dean remained resolutely awake, hands fisted on his brother's back. Alec could feel the tiny kid's eyes bore a hole into the back of his head.

Sammy whimpered, and Dean's attention shifted. He cooed nonsensical words, as though he barely remembered someone doing it for him once. "Don't worry Sammy, angels are watching over us." He mumbled into his brother's hair.

Huh, now Alec knew where Ben got that from, you know if you replaced 'angels' with 'Blue Lady'.

He wondered if he should discourage such behavior, but it apparently was somewhat genetic, so training Dean out of a bad habit would not affect Ben's behavior in the future. Maybe Manticore even wanted such delusional thinking. What if by trying to change his behavior, Dean was never singled out and-

Alec shook his head. Let's not go down that road of thinking this early in the morning.

He pulled over at a diner, (because, hey, kids need to eat right?) and spent the last of his, all be it stolen, money on pancakes, milk, and pie. Dean's eyes lit up for an instant at that last order, making Alec smile.

When it started to get dark, the transgenic left the kids in the Impala with a blanket and bag of chips between them with instructions to stay put till he got back. Several rounds of pool and a few hundred dollars richer, Alec pulled the car back onto the road towards this Jim guy's house, careful not to wake the sleeping bodies piled in the back seat.

=spndrkangel=

Alec did not have enough experience to say whether or not the church and pastor were what a normal church and paster looked like. He could, however, say with relative certainty that Pastor Jim was just as delusional as the former John Winchester was concerning things that go bump in the night.

It made his scam both harder and easier to sell.

"John told me to take care of the kids." Alec said, trying to keep his expression straight and free of anger when faced with this stubborn man of god. Said kids were bundled off into a back room somewhere catching up on some much needed food and rest.

Pastor Jim remained unconvinced. "John never mentioned you."

Alec wracked his brains for what he remembered of his brief impression of the dead man. "He wasn't the kind to share information needlessly."

Jim didn't make sign of disagreement, so Alec assumed he said the right thing.

"We were hunting in the woods together," technically true, sort of. Alec was trying to take down a Nomalie, and John was just coming back from hunting a stray werewolf, according to Dean anyway (Alec mentally snorted). "The thing jumped us and got to John before he could shoot it."

"You say you're a cousin of Mary's?"

"Yes." Alec mentally filed the name for later use.

"And you're a hunter?"

"Yep, since the day I was born."

The pastor hummed thoughtfully.

"I'm a hunter, don't worry about that." Cat DNA aside, Alec was a pure bred hunting machine. The man still looked skeptical. "Here, give me a mission if you don't believe me." As long as he assured this guy he was in on this delusion of monsters, he could keep the kids and, hopefully, ensure his creation some time in the future.

The pastor smiled. "Well, there's a haunting one town over..."

=spndrkangel=

When he told the boys he was going to hunt a ghost and that they better be good for Pastor Jim, Sammy's eyes got all dewy again. The kid threw himself at Alec's knees (the only part of the man he could easily wrap his arms around) and begged him not to go and disappear like daddy.

Dean refused to meet his gaze and stood a few feed away, his arms folded behind his back.

Recognizing that stance from years of practice, Alec tried to reassure the boys that nothing could hurt them, which ended in more tears on Sammy's part when he wailed something about his father saying the same thing.

In the end, since he couldn't tell the children that ghosts weren't real, he ended up asking them to help him prepare to calm them down.

Bu the time he got into the Impala, his pockets were stuffed full of rock salt (curtesy of Sammy), and his ears were ringing from a detailed lecture of ghost disposal (curtesy of Dean).

The whole experience was adorable in his opinion.

Alec traipsed into the house, shotgun loosely balanced on his shoulder. He would knock around the empty house for a bit, maybe fire off a shot if he was feeling ambitious. That should be enough to perpetuate this illusion of monsters and things that go bump in the night for the kids. He decided that an hour was a long enough time to mess around before gong back to the kids with harrowing tales of battling a ghost into submission.

He shivered and set down the gun to wrap his coat closer to his frame. Seriously, mid-west states sucked in the winter, it was always so cold.

His breath billowed around his mouth as he walked the hallway, kicking broken bits of furniture into the crumbling walls.

A dark head flickered at the corner of his eye. Turning his head, Alec blinked.

"What are you doing here this time of night?"

The hear turned, revealing the pale delicate features of a woman wearing a wispy white dress. Alec took a step back, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. This woman had no scent, and her feet left no imprint against the dusty floor.

"Well shit."

The transparent figure sneered at him, beautiful face morphing into a demonic sneer as it raised its arms.

Huh, ok. So, ghosts were real. Alec counted several points in his favor for adaptability, because he managed to absorb this information completely without suffering any mental hangups while simultaneously being thrown across the room by some kind of telekinetic force.

Shaking the worst of the broken wall's debris from his shoulders, the soldier wracked is brain for what his mini-maker had said about ghosts.

Let's see: people die, spirits unrested, salt and burn the bodies once identified, salt- Salt!

The specter lunged, claw like hands outstretched to scratch his eyes. Alec threw himself to the left towards the entryway where he had left the shotgun, but the ghost latched onto the sleeve of his jacket. He flailed, hands scrambling in his pockets for Sam's 'present'.

He woman screamed and shimmered out of existence when the rock salt hit her face.

Alec dashed to the door, remembering to snatch the gun on his way out.

He was so buying the kids ice cream after this.

=spndrkangel=

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	3. Chapter 3

...spn...

don't own any'tin

=spndrkangel=

Alec leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin as he watched his two charges practice their aim against a line of cans balanced atop a group of tomb stones.

So, ghosts were real. Following that line of thinking, one can assume that other alleged 'supernatural' beings existed as well. The transgenic smiled at the informative book in his lap. Zombies, vampires, werewolves? That sounded like a party waiting to happen, and he totally wanted in.

This put a whole new perspective on what Manticore called 'John Winchester's psychosis'. Alec supposed this meant his grown up maker wasn't a crazy mass murderer, which was nice to know. He wondered if the guy ever hunted Bigfoot.

A shot and clang pulled his eye back to the midgets wielding guns.

"Cease fire," he barked, pleased when the boys immediately lowered their weapons to look at him. "Status?"

Dean stepped in front of his brother, eyes weary but eager to adapt to the new game his 'uncle' set out. Alec smiled: just like old times.

"We got all of them, but Sammy needs to practice more with the rifle. He got knocked back a couple times."

"Injuries?"

Dean shook his head. "Uh uh."

"Good." What did kids do when they weren't training again? Oh right. "Go play."

Sammy cheered something about watching cartoons and ran from the graveyard back inside. Dean followed him three steps, before turning back to Alec.

"You're reading Dad's journal."

Alec looked to the forgotten book in his lap. It was open to an illustration of a pentagonal star meant to ward off demonic possession. He met his mini-maker's gaze.

"Your father was a smart guy. I'm just catching up on some much needed reading."

"Oh." The kid still didn't leave.

Alec counted to six to let the kid sweat. "Would you like to study with me?"

Dean shifted his weight to the left indecisively. "Dad never let us touch his journal."

"Well I'm not your father." He patted the tombstone next to his fold up chair. "Come on: a good soldier needs to know everything about his targets."

Dean frowned and turned to follow his brother.

Alec smirked at the kid's retreating back and flipped another page. The kid would warm up to him eventually. He hoped.

Hm, maybe he should teach them about demolition next. Kids liked explosions right?

...he was not programed for this kind of work.

Arson, he could handle blindfolded; Assassination, he was build for it; Theft, that was a hobby; Monster hunting- heck he was looking forwards to that; but raising two midgets? No, that was something Alec had no qualifications for.

He didn't even have a childhood of his own to look back on for tips: Manticore treated everyone like a soldier the moment they were strong enough to lift a gun.

Abandoning the children with Pastor Jim wouldn't do either, unless he wanted to make more a a time paradox than he already had. He had examined himself thoroughly in the mirror that morning to make sure none of his limbs had begun to disappear, like Marty McFly in an old video he found forgotten under a stack of crates at Logan's.

No, Dean's development needed to follow that of the original timeline as closely as possible, which meant driving around the country with his caretaker and brother. Aside from that and fighting monsters, though, Alec didn't really know what to do, unless he wanted to run the kids through military drill all day...

Alec turned the page and took in the rather graphic description of something called a 'Changeling'.

Ok, creepy.

Maybe a little bit of training wouldn't hurt.

Alec wasn't normal, but those kids wouldn't grow up to be normal either. They were all hunters. He supposed that was the quality Manticore wanted to breed into their little super soldiers.

He ran a hand through his hair and slammed the journal closed.

Screw it, if he hadn't started to disappear yet he was obviously doing something right, and as long as the kid survived long enough for Manticore to snatch his DNA everything would be fine and dandy.

In order for him to survive that long with all those monsters out there... yeah, demolition was totally the next lesson.

=spndrkangel=

It took a surprising lack of effort for Alec to convince Pastor Jim to let him take the boys and drive away into the sunset.

The transgenic would have been more suspicious, if not for the pastor taking him aside just before his departure.

"John was a secretive man at the best of times, but he told me enough. You watch out for those boys and what's after them." Alec repressed a flinch. Did he know about Manticore?

The older man pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. "Call the number on here. He'll set you up with new hunts and information until you and the boys get settled enough to handle things on your own. I understand that it is difficult for someone your age to take care of children, but I want you to know I think you're doing a good thing."

Alec took the paper with thanks and did not run to the Impala.

Two sets of eyes watched him from the back seat as he pulled onto the main road, innocently judging in that way unique to children and small animals.

Alec fought to keep his expression impassive, while inside he paced with uncertainty.

=spndrkangel=

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	4. Chapter 4

...spn...

don't own any'tin

=spndrkangel=

=spndrkangel=

The paper contained not only the phone number and address of someone named 'Singer', but the number of a storage locker somewhere in North Dakota.

Shrugging, Alec crumbled the paper and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. Hunting matters aside, right now he needed to concentrate.

He had pulled into one of the motels of the largest reasonable sized towns he had come across and left the kids in a room while he went out to acquire some spending change.

The munchkins acted as though this was a common behavior expected from their care takers, so Alec banished all thoughts of abandonment issues and other psychological trauma TV had prepared him for to the back of his mind. He just handed his mini-maker a gun, ordered him to lock the door, and gave him enough cash to order a pizza.

At the moment he was leaning against a pool table trying to act as drunk as the stack of empty cups on the bar implied. It wasn't his usual style, he usually liked to have more flair, but right now he had two other mouths to feed and needed cash fast.

Cage fighting was a more lucrative source of income, but he couldn't afford to stay in one place long enough to build up a reliable ring of contacts.

The piece of muscle across the table sunk the eight ball after his third try. Alec groaned, leaning heavily on his pool stick.

"Awe man, now I've only got twenty bucks left! What do you say, one more game and winner takes the pot and pays for the drinks? I'll even throw in my leather coat!"

One hour later, Alec left the bar several hundred dollars richer with two bags of peanuts in his pockets. Not bad for a nights work.

He drove the Impala back to the motel and nearly slipped on the thick line of salt decorating the inner doorway of his shared room. Frowning, Alec kicked the salt back into a clumsy line. He made a mental note to ask the kids about it in the morning and collapsed back on the bed. His fingers hovered over the remote, before placing it on the night stand between the twin beds.

Moonlight filtered through the window, reflecting off a pair of wide human eyes.

Alec smirked, even though the kid probably couldn't see it. "I'll take the next watch soldier, you can go to sleep."

The eyes watched him for a moment longer, before finally closing. Alec soon followed suit.

=spndrkangel=

Alec felt a slight pressure at the foot of his bed. Rolling out of the sheets, knife in hand, he opened his eyes to see the stoic face of his mini-maker perched on the bed spread eyeing the weapon impassively.

"We're out of salt," the preteen informed him, in what one day might become a gruff voice.

"Ok?" Alec yawned and checked the glowing red clock on the stand. It read six in the morning.

"We're also out of Lucky Charms." Alec had no idea what 'Lucky Charms' were. An anti-evil ward maybe?

The transgenic stood up and stretched. They were about three days drive out of South Dakota where this 'Singer' hunter guy was supposed to be, so a small detour couldn't hurt. The box in North Dakota could wait till later. "Ok, I guess we better go shopping."

=spndrkangel=

It was the best stocked store Alec had ever seen, though considering that the future was practically third world that wasn't saying much.

Still, feeling overwhelmed by the piles of packaged goods, Alec set the two boys free with instructions to fill the cart with whatever they wanted to eat, provided it was within the budget.

Dean immediately took charge, marching beside the cart while Sam rode inside and Alec pushed, pointing out boxes for his caretaker to put in the basked. That might have been his first mistake there, because all those brightly colored packages of sugar could not contain even the minimum health requirements of two growing boys.

While passing through the outdoor supplies for rock salt, stakes, and a shovel (the last one's handle snapped half way through a grave dig) Alec swung through a giant refrigerator (he tried not to look too awed) to pick up some fruit, veggies, and milk. Hopefully the produce wouldn't go bad before they ate it, not having a cooler in the car to keep it fresh.

Dean wrinkled his nose at the carrot sticks, but Alec paid him no mind. When your body is an expensive piece of government issued equipment, you learn how to keep it healthy.

Paying at the checkout was an experience. Alec didn't understand why the cashier looked surprised that he was paying in cash, until he saw some of the other patrons using little square plastic rectangles to make their purchases.

Huh. That garnered some looking into. Fraud was just another kind of theft, right? Wouldn't be that far out of his usual game.

He wondered how one would go about acquiring a credit card...

=spndrkangel=

Dean still didn't know what to make of 'Uncle Alec', despite traveling around with the guy for a while.

He moved like Dad used to, like he was ready to fight something off, and he knew what he was talking about when he taught him and Sammy about guns 'n stuff, but sometimes the guy was just dumb.

Like that time he 'quizzed' Dean about the salt lines and protective sigils he put around every motel room they used before going to sleep (just like Dad taught him), or when Dean had to teach him how to make salt rounds for the shotgun when they ran out.

Sometimes he was really cool, like when he let them order pizza and buy whatever they wanted at the grocery store and eat pie before dinner at the road side diners. Dad never let them do that, but then Dad never woke them up at sunrise to go jogging or practice sniping or take them out into a field with home made fireworks to blow up abandoned sheds. He had been just starting to teach Dean about firearms, and said that when Sammy was older he would be taught to.

Uncle Alec never seemed to think that the boys were too young for weapons though. It made Dean feel all grown up, which was cool, and it helped him protect Sammy better if he knew how to use more than the sawed off shot gun Daddy always left behind on hunting trips. Uncle Alec hadn't gone on any really long hunts yet, so Dean usually had the entire Winchester armory at his immediate disposal.

Despite being weird sometimes, Dean didn't doubt that the guy was related to him in some way. Alec looked a lot like Dean's memories of his mother, and they shared the same color eyes.

Pastor Jim said that Alec was one of his mom's cousins, and that he had been helping Dad on a hunt when it went bad. He said Alec would take care of them now, but if they ever needed anything they could call him at any time. Dean didn't remember if his father had mentioned anything about teaming up with another hunter, nor did he recall what his father had even been hunting. It must have been something horrible to get the drop on John Winchester.

But no, he couldn't think about that any more. A Winchester doesn't cry. He needed to be strong and take care of Sammy.

His little brother didn't really understand what was going on, and even though he adored their new care taker, kept asking when Daddy was coming back.

Dean couldn't come up with a good answer for him, so he pretended that Dad was just on another one of his long hunting trips, like the time he left them with Pastor Jim for a month. It made the ache in his chest hurt less.

Right now he was sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala, a handgun balanced on his knee. Sammy dozed in the back, a half eaten bag of carrots spilled across his lap.

He wrinkled his nose. How could his little brother actually want to eat his vegetables? Dean considered it a hard blow to his parenting techniques.

Craning his neck, he tried to get a look at the house Uncle Alec had parked in front of, but the stack of rusted out cars still blocked his view of all but the corner of the front door. The ten year old slumped down into his seat with a huff.

One way his caretakers were alike: they never let him come to the fun stuff.

Raised voices and the slamming of wood brought the boy to attention. Uncle Alec rounded the corner, lips twisted in a scowl as he practically threw himself behind the wheel of the Impala.

Dean clutched the gun. John had never intentionally harmed his children when in a rage, but there had been a few close calls. Dean didn't trust his uncle as much as he trusted his father not to hurt them.

As if sensing the preteen's thoughts, Alec turned his head just enough to meet Dean's eyes. A running narrative of thought spiraled behind the man's expression, before he turned back to the road, took a deep breath, and started the car.

Dean's hands relaxed around the gun's handle.

Later in a motel (and that was another thing Uncle Alec had a much broader definition of 'live-able' that John ever did) Dean lay back to back with Sammy, comic book in hand, when the jingle of a phone broke the silence.

Alec looked around in confusion, before reaching into a pocket for a beat up cell. Dean recognized the scratch on the phone's cover: he put it there over a year ago when playing with a butterfly knife. John had been very displeased with his son, but didn't feel the need to replace his still working phone.

The man looked at the phone bemused, before flipping it open and holding it cautiously against his ear.

"Hello?" The scowl from before returned to his face. "I thought you told me to, and I quote, 'get off your property and never show my hide there again.'"

Dean strained his ears, eyes still focused on his book.

There was a pause as the speaker growled something on the other end. Alec smirked. "I guess I don't have to be there to do a job either." More growling. "Ok, I'll check it out." He snapped the phone shut.

"Dean." The boy looked up.

"Yeah?"

"Pop quiz: when faced with an unknown target, what is the standard kit a good hunter needs to take with them on a case?"

Dean racked his mind. "Well," he drew out the word to give himself time to think. "If you don't know what your hunting, you always take silver, salt, and iron in your pockets. You would need a disguise, like a fake ID or something, to interrogate witnesses to find out what happened. Uh," he cast about, "and always bring an extra knife in your boot?"

Alec smiled approvingly. "Great job squirt! This assignment is finding out what's causing hikers to go missing in a canyon two states over, so as a prize you get to come hunting with me!"

The comic book fell forgotten to the floor.

"What?"

"You come hunting on this assignment with me."

"But," Dean felt conflicted.

Alec's brow quirked. "How old are you, nine? Ten?"

"Ten, sir."

"And you can hold a gun, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, then what's the problem?"

The answer tumbled from the boy's lips before his euphoria at being included on a hunt could cloud his higher thinking. "But what about Sammy? He's too little to take care of himself!"

Alec hummed as his gaze shifted to the youngest Winchester, who had abandoned his toy soldiers to watch the conversation.

"I wanna go too!" he squeaked, gap toothed smile spread wide for the world to see.

"You want to come camping with us Sammy?"

The six year old nodded so fervently, it was a wonder his head didn't bobble off. "Yeah. If Dean gets to go, I wanna go too!"

"Think your old enough to follow orders on an assignment?"

Sammy wrinkled his nose at his caretaker's big words, but nodded his head again. "Uh hu!"

Uncle Alec shrugged. "Ok, then you can come too." He turned back to the TV.

Dean sat up. "No, Sammy's too little to come. He could get hurt."

"I wasn't much older than him when I went on my first assignment. Don't worry, nothing while happen to you kids while I'm here. This assignment is purely recon, no confrontation with unfriendly's is expected."

Dean fisted his hands in the blankets. "So Sammy stays in the Impala?"

Alec changed the channel on the TV. "Yep."

Sammy's squeal of protest was duly ignored.

=spndrkangel=

It hadn't taken long to drive to the campsite the hikers had been using. Alec had a cover story about taking his nephews camping to explain his presence to forest rangers, but so far had encountered no one. The canyon was eerily quiet.

He parked the Impala at the end of a wide dirt road with the window cracked and Sammy inside. Dean came with him as far as the mouth of the cave where the hikers were last spotted; Alec then ordered the pre-teen to stand guard outside while he explored further.

Alec squinted at the cave drawings, John's journal open in his hand. He flipped a page and paused on one covered in photocopied clippings taped together.

"Coyote," he mumbled, "Kokopele, Raven..." He frowned. These characters were from mythologies on opposite coasts of America, they shouldn't be present on the same wall, if said wall was meant to be hundreds of years old. What was even weirder was the knotting pattern of spirals surrounding the figures.

Alec flipped another page. Bobby thought that the disappearances might be from an old Native American curse being triggered by hikers messing around in the woods, but these symbols resembled a binding contract more than a curse.

Two shots and a cry of alarm echoed from the mouth of the cave. Alec dropped the flashlight.

"Dean?"

He dashed over the rocks, leaving an after image in his wake of a drawn knife and gun.

Emerging from the darkness, Alec saw the crouched form of a man dressed in beaded leather. Dean lay on the ground, firearm knocked from his grasp.

Alec cocked his pistol. "Get away from him."

The figure straightened and turned, revealing what at first glance appeared to be dreadlocks as a cascade of black feathers. A clay baked Coyote with golden eyes grinned back at him in place of a human face.

Dean snatched his gun and scrambled to the Impala. Alec kept his aim, but strained his ears to hear Dean open the car door and pull his brother out of the car and behind the engine block. Good kid. He focused his mind back on the feathered being.

"Who are you?"

"I am."

"You are what?"

"Isn't that a question?"

Alec frowned: either this monster was crazy or philosophical. Neither option bode well.

"Why are you here?"

Golden eyes laughed behind a black feathered mask. "This sacred ground was given to me to protect. I have complete dominion here."

"The people who lived here are long gone. I don't know what those hikers did to wake you up, but there's nothing left here to protect."

"I knew what they did last summer," the ancient god supplied. "They left a friend behind; I felt it poetic justice that they get left behind as well."

"Are they still alive?"

Alec couldn't see the trickster's face, but could hear the sharp grin. "Let's just say they won't be around for spring break next year."

The transgenic could see Dean crouched behind the Impala, Sammy's little sneakers close by his side. He never let his gaze fall from the being standing in front of him.

"So you're saying they deserved it?"

The god nodded. "Now you're getting it."

"Well those kids back there haven't done anything, you have no reason to harm them."

Black feathers stood on end around the grinning canine's face. "It's not them I'm after."

Alec threw himself to the left, just in time to dodge the tackle aimed for his middle. Rolling to his feet he tried to fire, but his gun was no longer in his hand.

"I can smell their blood on you," the masked figure said, voice like gleeful honey. "Lives and lives and lives~! But I can hear some of these lives still breathing! Cans you tell me how someone can be dead by your hand, but still alive now?"

An invisible force struck Alec's elbow, knocking him to the rocks. The knife he held handed underneath him, burying itself up to the hilt in his thigh. He pulled the weapon out with a curse and crawled behind further into the cave, trying to draw the creature away from the children behind the Impala.

"Here kitty, kitty, kitty!" Near silent footsteps ghosted over the dirt and gravel, approaching the cave's mouth. "Isn't it poetic justice that a monster gets killed by a bigger monster?"

Alec pried open his eyes, trying to think.

On the wall the curling designs glowed around the caricatures of trickster gods.

A binding spell... bindings can be broken...

Sliding up the wall with his good leg, Alec clawed at the stone, willing the ancient paint to flake. His fingertips left trails of red on the wall and he pounded it with a fist. The shale wall fractured, cracking the design in twain as the rock crumbled off the wall.

The god stood at the mouth of the cave frozen. Fear at the thought of it not working wormed into Alec's gut. Jerkily the masked being moved to take a step. Before his foot touched the ground, a loud explosion shot through the clearing and it dissipated into smoke.

Alec could have sworn the coyote was laughing as it vanished in the mist.

Alec looked to where the bullet fired, and saw Dean with a shotgun balanced on the hood of the Impala. The boy's eyes were wide, and his whole body shaking with adrenaline, but when Alec met his eye he gave a hesitant smile.

Groaning the man stood and limped over to the car. He patted Dean's head as he passed and lifted Sammy from where he was holding on to his brother's leg.

"You ok?" the six year old asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Alec popped the door and guided his charges into the back seat. Still shaken from the encounter, he slid himself behind the wheel and took a moment to recollect himself.

"Let's head back to town."

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	5. Chapter 5

...spn...

don't own any'tin

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After that first group hunt, Dean noticed the way his uncle looked at him, like he was a china doll in front of a charging bull. The pre-teen wanted to protest, to say that he could take care of himself and Sammy very well thank you very much, but a part of him (a secret dark girly part he would forever deny having) remembered the frantic glance sent his way when his uncle faced off against the ghost thing, and the fierce determination there to keep him safe.

Dad only looked at him like that once, just after the fire took their mother away.

So Dean kept his mouth shut and ran the drills Uncle Alec set for him to do without complaint. It was hard and boring, and sometimes the ringing in his ears from their makeshift firing range didn't go away for a whole day, but he knew it would make him a better hunter. Next time he would be able to help on an assignment, instead of hiding with Sammy.

Uncle Alec hadn't invited Dean to go hunting alone with him since that first time, though sometimes the older man would let him and Sammy join for a boring salt and burn. Dean knew his uncle got more interesting assignments from the blood and smoke staining his jacket than the ones he took him along on. He tried not to let the disappointment in himself show (why else would he be left behind? If he was a better hunter his uncle would be happy to have him as a partner...), and pushed himself harder into drills.

Assignments always came on the phone from someone Alec called 'Singer'. Alec explained that he used to hunt with a 'unit' and wasn't as good at finding 'assignments' on his own, so 'Singer' helped him find monsters to 'eliminate'.

Dean mentioned how he could be of help, but Uncle Alec patted his head. "Not ready yet," he would laugh.

Dean liked his uncle. He liked having someone's attention focused only on him. Dad had always told him to put Sammy first and to always protect him, but Uncle Alec hadn't mentioned Sammy even once. Dean knew it was because his uncle trusted him to watch out for his little brother without a reminder.

It was harder in some ways to look out for Sammy without an adult there to help, but the six year old didn't mind so neither did Dean. He just made sure they always had enough food and Lucky Charms for breakfast and that the salt lines and protections were set up.

But sometimes... sometimes, he needed an adult's help to deal with his little brother.

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It was Sunday, so Alec decided to take a break from his crash course in the world of hunting (Singer seemed to take twisted pleasure in giving him a new monster to hunt every week) and relax in the motel with his two charges.

He dozed lightly under the sun filtering through the dusty window, remote in hand, when he felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked into the face of his mini-maker. "What?"

The kid stared up at him, lips pressed tightly together. "Sammy needs a haircut."

The transgenic looked across the room to where the younger Winchester brother lay huddled under a pillow fort.

"I do not Dean!" The lump of blankets shouted in a high pitched muffle.

The man raised an eyebrow. Well, at least he knew what all the shouting was about now. He looked back at his mini-maker. "Ok, and...?"

The boy's face gained a why-are-you-this-dumb-and-still-breathing look. "He won't hold still, and we don't have any scissors."

Alec looked back at the lump and sighed. Far be it from him to infringe upon a person's right to have long hair (a luxury long denied during his time at Manticore), but even he noticed that the smaller boy's hair seemed to take on a life of its own lately.

Sighing, the transgenic closed the book he was reading and approached the breathing pile of blankets. It wobbled when he prodded it, producing a litany of squawks and shrieks. He knelt down and lifted up a corner.

"Sammy, your brother's right. You look like a girl."

The blanket hissed cutely and curled tighter around itself. Alec sighed again and wrapped his arms around the heap. It kicked and wriggled, but not before Alec managed to dump them both on the bed. He unwrapped the fabric like a banana, revealing the mop topped center that was Sam.

Holding the boy firmly, Alec made himself comfortable. "Dean, grab a knife will you?"

The eldest Winchester nodded in understanding and crept closer to his brother, a small grin curling the corner of his mouth. "Sorry to do this Sammy," he chuckled, lifting a lock of hair, "This is for your own good!"

Later in the back of the Impala on their way to a nest of vicious wood something-or-others, a pouting Sammy glared a his caretaker and brother silently vowing revenge with his eyes.

Alec thought it was cute when he found Nair in his shampoo the next morning.

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"So when are you planning on puttin those boys back in school?"

"What ever happened to saying 'Hello' when you pick up the phone?" Alec groused into the cell. "Even a 'Hey, how did that nest of vampires go?' Gee thanks Singer, it went fine! I only lost a pint of blood and my favorite jacket needs to be dry cleaned, but other than that, I'm just dandy!"

"Shut it, ya idjit. I can understand taking a few months off after their Daddy died, but it's been nearly six."

Alec scratched his scalp. "Uh, I was actually going to enroll them somewhere today."

"Uh hu, where?"

"Um..."

"Well while you're deliberating that, I got a call about a possible hunt over in Missouri you should go check out."

"Ok, what is it?"

"I'm not your librarian kid, do the research yourself."

"But that could take-"

"Months, if this thing sticks to the patterns it's been keeping. This is the last hunt I'm giving you- I'm not here to hold your hand."

Alec growled. "You just enjoy manipulating me."

"If it ain't broke don't fix it."

"Fine I'll check it out." Snapping the phone shut, Alec got up and pulled the duffle out from under the bed and began to empty his shirts from the drawer under the TV.

Dean had taken his brother to the park by the motel and should be back soon. Alec just wondered how he was going to explain the new situation to him.

If school was anything like the lessons he remembered from Manticore, Alec was not looking forward to the conversation.

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It went about as well as Alec thought it would. He used the six hour drive across the state to psyche himself up, but didn't actually open his mouth on the subject until after he had secured a small apartment on the edge of town for them to live in.

When he explained to the boys about how they would be starting at the local public school on Monday, Sammy cheered, but Dean got this hollow betrayed look in his eyes that made Alec want to apologize.

He didn't, but it was a close call.

That Friday (apparently school offices weren't open on the weekend) for simplicities sake, he put himself down as 'Alec Winchester, uncle and guardian of Sam and Dean Winchester' on the school forms. Dean, who had been helping him fill out the boy's grade information, frowned, but didn't comment.

The hunt Singer told him about was a few hours out of town; something was making cars turn up empty every full moon. It could be anything from a haunted highway to a werewolf, and without Singer feeding him information Alec had to research it alone.

He hated research, but knew it to be a necessary evil. Unfortunately the paper trail ran cold, and Alec couldn't do much else until he witnessed the phenomena first hand. That meant parking the Impala on a god forsaken stretch of road for a, at minimum, week long stake out.

Alec had experienced worse, for example this stake out would be from within the comfort of the Impala and not in the mud of some god forsaken mountain. However... Alec hadn't spent more than half a day away from his charges since inviting himself into their lives all those months ago.

But the hunt...

It was moments like these Alec regretted being responsible for the future of two children.

The stakeout deadline approached, and Alec took Dean aside.

"I'm going on a long term recon mission. Estimated duration is one week." He took a breath. "You know standard safety protocol: don't answer the door for anyone, keep the door salted, weapons are under the bed, school starts at eight, make sure you eat breakfast..." He racked his brain for anything he may have forgotten. "And look out for your unit."

The ten year old wrinkled his brow. "My what?"

"Your unit, your brother. You're second in command of our little group here, that means you are in charge with me gone."

Dean nodded seriously, though Alec got the impression he had hears something similar before. Ruffling the boy's hair, he handed him all the money he won last time he hustled pool and left.

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A week later, Alec slunk back to the apartment, upright only through sheer force of will and the miracle of genetic engineering. Turned out it was a highway haunting. The ghost, an old highwayman who was buried in an un-marked grave it took Alec hours to find, would pull people from their 'wagons' and leave them to wonder the wilderness by the light of a full moon. One salt and burn followed by a twenty hour car ride later, the transgenic was exhausted. Knocking an all clear on the door, he jiggled the knob and shouldered his way in.

He vaguely registered Dean lowering a shot gun and the bathroom door slamming. Bag sliding from his shoulder, he melted against the only thing separating him and a hot shower.

"Sammy," he pounded the door. "Open up squirt."

"In a minute!" Alec heard cupboards slamming and scrabbling against the linoleum floor.

"You have till the count of three," the man said, face pressed against cheaply painted plywood. "One." The scrabbling grew more frantic. "Two." He could hear Sammy's voice coaxing something and the slam of wood on wood. "Three." Forcing the fragile lock through the doorframe took less effort on Alec's part than standing there arguing would.

The six (soon to be seven, according to Dean) year old stood with his back pressed against the sink, effectively blocking the wood cupboard underneath and Alec's path to the shower.

He sighed. "Sammy, get out of the way." The boy shook his head.

Knowing that if he didn't deal with this now if would become an issue later, he pushed the kid aside and opened the small door.

Alec blinked at the tumble of wet fuzz under the sink.

Sammy stood off to the side, arms still shoved behind his back as he tried to fold in on himself to escape the lecture he thought was coming.

Alec scooped up the puppy, discreetly wrinkling his nose at the scent of wet fur, and deposited it in the sink. Its claws scrambled against the smooth linoleum, before it settled by the drain. Wide brown eyes gazed up into the larger predator's, causing the feline transgenic to smirk.

Dean had joined his brother by the bathroom door, one hand pressed against the frame, the other twitching against the handle, ready to snatch the smaller figure away at the first sign of danger.

Theatrically putting his hands on his hips, Alec frowned at the boys. "Rule One when pets follow you home, you always give them a bath first!"

Hazel eyes blinked and relaxed, as Sammy's face lit up.

"You're not mad?" Dean sounded genuinely confused, as though he couldn't connect two points of what is and what might be in his mind.

"Why would I be? It's just a dog."

"Can we keep him?" the younger brother was already reaching for the trembling form to pet.

Alec shrugged and side stepped into the tiny bedroom to make way for Dean to join his brother. "He can stay until we need to move. Have you thought of a name yet?"

"Nuh uh." Running water sounded from the bathroom as Dean took charge with the bar of cheap soap.

The transgenic grinned to himself as he laid back on the bed and clicked on the TV. A shower took too much energy right now. "Why not call him Joshua?"

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so yeah, this is a filler chapter doing character developement and stuff...

but hey! thanks to you reviewers, I think I have a plot down now! or, yo know, at least a good place to end this bumper car ride...

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	6. Chapter 6

...spn...

don't own any'tin

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It wasn't anyone's fault that it happened, not really, but that didn't mean there wasn't a whole lot of guilt swirling around the Winchester family.

It started with a simple haunting.

It was a days drive from the little town they had set up shop in, and as it was a Sunday and the boys had school, Alec decided to take care of it alone.

Making sure the cupboards were stocked with peanut butter and bread, he handed Dean enough lunch money to last till Wednesday (even though he expected to come back by Tuesday at the latest), and drove off in the Impala.

Things went fine, until he reached the haunted house in question.

It wasn't haunted.

Or at least it wasn't just haunted.

Alec had just finished tracking down the grave of some poor murdered girl for a salt and burn, when the scarecrow over looking the burial site came to life and chased him away before he could reach for a liter.

After a two days of research, he discovered the family that owned the farm had a long unlikely history of bad crops, pointing to some kind of curse on the land.

Another two days and a drive took him to the ancestors of a gypsy caravan, who ran him out of their house at gun point, but not before informing him that, no, they did not bare any ill will towards some family they hadn't heard of. This, evidentially, was enough to break the gypsy's grudge born curse, allowing him to return to the farm and put the girls ghost to rest.

He burnt the lifeless scarecrow for good measure.

That would have been the end of his excursion (three days late, but there should be enough food if the boys rationed it a bit) but a february snow storm blew in closing down all the roads till further notice.

It was Tuesday again before Alec managed to get back.

Frantic he sped past the small apartment towards the town's little public elementary school. Both boys should be there now. Alec planned to pick them up early, just to reassure himself of their safety.

Three long steps brought him from the parking lot to the school's office, and another six led him down the hall to Sammy's first grade classroom.

The seven year old seemed disappointed to be picked up so early, but dutifully grabbed his things and followed his uncle out. Dean's classroom was two halls down, but a quick glance of the room proved it to be devoid of any children resembling his mini-maker. Did he have the right room?

Alec tapped against the glass window on the door to attract the teacher's attention. A middle aged woman with bright red lipstick and spectacled opened the door with raised brow.

"Yes?"

"I'm Dean's uncle," Alec said with the inflection of a question.

"Oh, Mr. Winchester. We were wondering when you would pick up Dean's homework. Is he starting to feel better? He's got the flu right?"

Alec felt his heart jump, but managed to keep his voice steady. "Yes, it's nothing serious, I've just been letting him sleep it off."

The woman sniffed. "You're trying your best with those boys, I'm sure. Just make sure he gets his work done."

Alec collected the packet of papers the woman offered and waited until he had Sammy in the back of the Impala before he asked, "What was that teacher talking about?"

The seven year old shrugged. "Dean said he wasn't feelin' good a couple days ago, which is weird because he always felt better to walk me home from school. He gave me all his lunch money and we've been having pizza every night too." Sammy wrinkled his nose. "I hate pizza."

Alec raised an eyebrow. "You liked it when we had pizza a few weeks ago."

The boy shrugged again. "It's fine when you get pizza, but Dean always gets pizza with weird things on top.I always give the little fish to Joshua," he mock whispered the last part. "Don't tell Dean though."

Alec's hands were deceptively loose on the steering wheel. "Your secret's safe little man." The car pulled up in front of the small apartment complex. Inside their room a tiny brown puppy yelped and scratched at Sam's legs. There was no sign of the elder Winchester brother.

Alec eyed the stack of pizza boxed stacked on the counter, memorizing the name printed on cardboard. He knelt to rub the dog's ears and catch Sammy's attention.

"Hey, how about you take Joshua for a walk in the lot out back while I go find Dean?"

The boy blinked in confusion. "He's not here?"

"He just went out for a bit," Alec tried not to strain his grin. "I'll be back in an hour ok? You and Joshua have fun."

Sammy frowned, but dutifully tied the make shift leach to the puppy's collar and walked outside.

Alec watched him explore the weed encrusted corners of what was once a parking lot, but now functioned as a garden for the elements and apartment renters. Making sure the boy was relatively distracted and safe, he hastened to the Impala.

He found Dean in the mouth of an alley, his hands covered in grime where he had crouched. The boy looked at his care taker with wide eyes, like he'd been found with his hand in a cookie jar instead of a dumpster.

"What are you doing back here?" Alec sighed, though he had a pretty comprehensive idea.

"Waiting."

"For what?"

"Them to throw the boxes out."

"Why?"

"You call the pizza place and order something really weird on top of your pizza, then wait for them to throw it out. They can't sell it with anchovies and pineapple and barbecue chicken on top."

Alec didn't want to know how his mini-maker knew this trick, nor how many times he had to use it. "You're ten, you shouldn't be digging through the garbage."

Dean rubbed a dirty fist over his lips. "I'm eleven now sir."

Alec sighed. "Eleven then. Ok." He ran a hand through his hair. "Look I'm going to call you in sick tomorrow, and you're going to come work with me."

Dean perked up. "Hunting?"

The transgenic shrugged. "Something like that. Now come on: I'm buying you an entire pizza for you to eat yourself. And ice cream. And pie."

Dean's eyes grew comically wide. "What about Sammy?"

"Sam can have his own too."

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Alec draped himself against the pool cue, like a fourth of July flag with no wind. A goofy grin splashed across his face and dripped into a row of empty bottles.

"Nice shot!" he compliments his opponent, and receives an ecstatic gap toothed smile in response.

"Hey you nearly done here?" One of the other bar patrons, a burly man wearing leathers, stomped over. "My friend and I want to use the table some time tonight."

Alec grinned sheepishly, fumbling with the cue as he straightened. "Sorry, I'm just trying to teach my kid brother how to play." He waved at the smaller boy holding a stick twice his height partially hidden behind him. "Say," he slurred as another leather clad man joined the first, "do you guys want to play a game with us? Come on it will be fun! I promise we'll clear off afterwards."

Readily the two men agreed and each picked up a cue. Half an hour later team Winchester was losing badly, though not as badly as they could have been if not for Alec's skill. The two bikers felt victory assured as the smallest player liked up a particularly difficult shot.

"Kid's never going to make that," the first man scoffed.

"Don't listen to him bro, you can do it!"

The man snorted loudly and Alec scowled drunkenly at him. "Don't go dissing my bro. He'll totally wipe that smirk off your face."

"Care to put your money where your mouth is?"

"How much?" Alec started digging in his pocket while the man thought up a number. Dean's cue scraped against the green velvet as he tried to lift the cue.

The man smirked. "Five hundred bucks." He pulled a wad of twenties from his pockets. Alec nodded and matched his bet.

Turning the transgenic met his 'little brother's' eyes. He winked.

Dean tried to hold back his smile as he sunk the shot.

"And that," Alec said several hours later, his pockets bulging, "Is the proper way to make money when one is unemployed."

Dean rolled his new watch over his hands, nice despite being too bid for both his wrists put together. He nodded at his uncle's words, eager to learn.

Alec slid into the Impala's driver seat while Dean walked around to the passenger side. "So tomorrow we'll go to Wellspring, that's the next town over, and I'll teach you how to play poker." He fixed a hazel eye on his charge. "Now what have we learned about hustling today?"

"Always let your target pick the bet, and braggers always are too proud to not try to prove you wrong," came the succinct reply.

Alec ruffled the boy's hair. "Good! Now let's go get Sammy from school."

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They stayed in Missouri till the beginning of summer, with Dean, curiously sitting through sixth grade (never having been in the same class for that long before) and Sammy causing Alec headaches whenever his teachers called the older man in to discus 'special' placement for his 'bright nephew'.

The transgenic decided that he hated parent teacher meetings. At least the ones with Dean's teachers were more interesting (usually them complaining how the young boy managed to acquire all his classmate's allowances on a weekly basis).

Alec used the months to develop his 'researching' skills (after Singer flat out refused to spoon feed him cases any more). He still couldn't work a computer past opening a search bar, but managed to find and put down a handful of hauntings and what turned out to be a possessed tree all by himself.

But alas, all good things must come to an end.

After determining that all supernatural activity within a three days drive of their little Missouri town was put down, Alec decided that it was time to move to greener hunting grounds.

A CEO in Florida went missing, and his body was found seven miles away with its feet worn out from walking. Alec hadn't dealt with witches before, and thought it was time to expand his repertoire to curses.

Sammy cried while saying goodbye to Joshua, but Alec made sure that the dog had a good home with an old couple he saved, so he tried not to let it get to him.

Dean just watched their home for the last few months vanish out the window.

"You ok?" Alec asked, trying to drown out the quiet sniffing of Sammy in the back. The older boy looked at him, unblinkingly.

"Are we going to stay this long in the next place?" he asked.

Alec shrugged. "If I can find a hunt."

Dean nodded in acceptance (a gesture Alec had begun to associate with Dean comparing his 'uncle' to his father). "Ok. It was nice, though."

The knife of guilt dug a little deeper and twisted.

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It took a surprisingly short time for Alec to set up a base and make sure his charges were settled in. He resigned himself to letting these activities become habit, and tried not to think about how many more times he would need to repeat the process before the kids were old enough to take care of themselves.

There were fruit trees behind the small apartment, and Alec spent the afternoon after they were done unpacking showing the boys all the edible plants. All were still in bloom and not ready to bare fruit, but Sammy delighted in imagining what the exotic treats would taste like once they were ripe and ready to be harvested.

Alec kept his answers on how long they were staying deliberately vague so those sparkling eyes wouldn't dim just yet.

Luckily it was now summer vacation so he didn't need to worry about signing the boys up for school till the fall. Thank goodness for small favors.

The next morning, after setting the boys up with money and instructions for the day, Alec picked up a fake reported ID and walked to the scene of the strange crime.

Office big shot walks himself to death, sounded like witch craft and curses. So if a witch was out to get revenge on a man, the witch must know him personally. What better place was there to create a grudge than against your boss at work?

He waltzed up to the sprawling building, taking a moment to survey the reflective glass windows towering seven floors above his head. The receptionist inside, a man with sandy blonde hair and a name tag that said 'Arnie Smythe' snapped his pink bubblegum at Alec.

"Newspaper hu? Ol' Young never was this popular before his little breakdown."

"Oh?" Alec said pleasantly.

"Yep," the man grinned wickedly. "No one in the office liked him, he liked to fire floor staff if his coffee was cold. I'm just glad I run coffee for the other side of the building."

"What a jerk!" Alec agreed. "Who did he fire recently?"

The receptionist tapped his cheek thoughtfully. "I can't name names off the top of my head, but if you need it for your article I can print something up."

"That would be great! I could turn it into a character piece on the morality of office life."

Arnie chuckled as his fingers flew across the keyboard. "Sounds fun."

"Think I could stop by later to chat some more?" Alec asked as he gratefully too the printout handed to him. "You know to double check my facts."

The secretary shrugged. "Sure, doesn't bother me at all."

With a wave he departed the building.

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"So, what can you tell me about the incident involving Mr. Young?" Alec asked, pen poised over his imaginary reporter's notepad.

The woman he was interviewing (second from the bottom on the list) rubbed her hands together distractedly. "Well, and I'm sure I'm not the first to tell you this, but that man had it coming."

"You're not," Alec assured. "Many of your former colleagues share your sentiments."

Mrs. Hubbly sniffed. "He was an ass. Never struck me as the kind to have a nervous breakdown, but neither did that guy at the coffee shop, so I guess you just never know."

Alec's scribblings slowed. "Coffee shop?"

"Oh, that's right you're not from around here. Yes, the man who owned the coffee shop on Main Street claimed that green eyes monsters were chasing him. Next thing anyone knows he's catatonic in the hospital."

"Wow, that's crazy. Can you tell me anything else about it?"

She shrugged. "I was never a coffee runner, so I never went there."

Alec gave his most charming smile. "Well thank you ma'am, you've been really helpful!"

One quick stroll later, and Alec was talking with the new manager of 'Brew Lala', sipping on a vanilla latte.

"Mr. Johnson?" the young man asked. "Yeah, he was a real jerk. Always commenting on how nice everyone's things were compared to his own. It wasn't even like he couldn't afford that kind of stuff either, he was just too cheep to do it."

"And you say he started hallucinating?"

"Yep," he huffed. "You know, like what parents tell kids 'bout the 'Green Eyed Monster'. We all thought it was funny, until he apparently scared himself to death. His son owns the place now, so at least I still have a job."

Alec made a note on his paper. "This is going to sound random, but do you think this incident has anything to do with the 'nervous breakdown' of a Mr. Young? For example, were he and Mr. Johnson friends?"

The manager rubbed his chin. "Friends? No, but that guy's secretary always brought his a double espresso every morning. Nice guy, but he'll rot his teeth out one of these days."

"Hm. Thanks, you've been really helpful. I'll be sure to quote you if I use this in my article."

Folding up his legal pad, Alec shakes the man's hand and returns to the motel, brain itching as he went.

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Muffled mewling, like a kitten in a cardboard box, pulled Alec out of his subconscious' delectable image of the various uses for chocolate syrup. Rough fabric scraped against his cheek as he listened, wondering if it was just the creaky building making noises in the night or something more sinister.

The cry stifled itself again, and Alec looked over to the twin lumps one bed over.

"Dean?" he whispered. The whimpering stopped, as though a fist had been clamped down tightly over tiny lips. Alec sat up, wincing at the loud creak of springs. "Hey, you ok kiddo?"

"Sorry sir," the pre-teen's quiet voice said at last. "I didn't want to wake Sammy up."

Alec ran a hand over his eyes, not bothering to turn on the light. "Do you want to come over here and talk about it?"

The silence lasted long enough that Alec thought Dean had fallen back asleep, but the other mattress creaked and soft feet fell on the threadbare carpet. Wearing a too big t-shirt that reached his knees, the eldest Winchester boy cautiously settled himself on the edge Alec's bed. The kids arms twisted around his body in what might have been an attempt to keep himself warm, if the creeping heat of summer didn't fill the room.

"Want to talk about it?" Alec offered again, tempted to lay a hand on his mini-maker's shoulder. Dean shook his head (he would need a haircut soon the older man noted). "Ok." They sat in silence.

"Do," Dean's voice cracked, "do you remember what my mom was like?" The question was like a whispered prayer.

Alec thought fast. The file at Manticore remained disturbingly vague about the Winchester matron, only including a yellowing photo obviously taken from some school records. "We were cousins," he fell back on his cover story, "but we weren't very close."

"Oh." The syllable made the transgenic's heart throb.

"She was very beautiful," he shot out. "Mary had the prettiest blond hair I've ever seen. She had these laugh lines around her eyes, because she smiled so much, but you could tell she was also tough."

He could feel Dean's eyes on him as he held that picture of the young Mary Winchester firmly in his mind, trying to glean as much information as possible from the image. The boy shifted on the bed, leaning in closer, as if each word was a balm against a burning wound.

"I know she loved her family very much. I know she loved you very much." After all, what mother didn't? This might have been the wrong thing to say, because salty tears began to fall down the boy's already wet face.

Alec moved to wrap an arm around his thin shoulders. The boy stiffened, and for a moment he thought he had done the wrong thing again. Strong thin fingers wrapped themselves into his shirt, banishing such doubt.

"She," Dean gasped, "she used to say that angels were watching over me."

Alec rubbed small circles on his back, the way he remembered seeing a mother do once.

"Then the f-fire ha-happened and-," tremors wracked the little body in Alec's arms and he tightened the hug reflexively.

"Is that what woke you up?" he asked softly. "Remembering?"

A nod pressed itself into his ribs. "Sammy was only a baby and Dad told me to run and take him outside. I can he-hear her screaming in my head, even though Dad said she was d-dead before the fire. The smoke's in my eyes, but I can still-I can still see it get her. Then it gets D-dad. Then it starts to reach for S-sammy, and I can't- I can't- s-stop it." The rest of the sentence vanished into silent sobs, and Alec feels completely out of his depth.

"Shh, there there," he tries. "Look, Sammy's ok. He's over there sleeping. I won't let anything get you guys."

A tear streaked face turned to him. "B-but it got Dad. Dad was-" the boy's breath hitched.

Alec held him close. "Your father didn't have anyone watching his back and got caught by surprise. He didn't have a unit to hunt with."

"Weren't you there with him?"

Damn. "I was a step behind. He left me behind and by the time I caught up, the thing had already gotten him." The shaking intensified. "He got the monster though. Went down like a true soldier."

Dean clung to his 'uncle's' chest. "You go out alone."

"I'm just taking easy assignments until you can come help me with the hard ones when you're older."

"Oh." Darkness pressed against the pair, lukewarm air billowing through the window. Alec dozed against the headboard of the bed, still holding his charge.

"I won't let anything happen to you," the childish promise whispered.

Alec smiled. "Me neither kid."

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Alec sighed as he fished in his pocket for the hotel keys. Another day and he was no closer to solving this case that when he started. In fact he was even further away.

Two more cases like the 'Green Eyed Monster' and the compulsive road walking had turned up in his interviewing. A dry cleaner with a tendency to stealing cloths gets his wardrobe eaten out by moths, and a mailman with a penchant for stealing checks out of the mail ends up trapped in a blue mail box on the corner.

Alec couldn't find any connecting feature between the cases, other than the fact that all the locations were frequented by employes of Mr. Young's company.

The lock to the room clicked and he pushed the door open with a shoulder.

"I'm back," he called, stepping neatly over the salt line on the floor.

There was no reply. The hairs on the back of Alec's neck stood up.

"Dean? Sammy?" In two steps he passed the counter (no note) and beds (shotgun barrel still poking out under the mattress) and opened the bathroom door (sink was dry, they've been gone for a few hours at least).

Adrenalin spiked through his blood, sharpening his focus as he combed the room. Salt lines were in place still, so it couldn't be a spirit. Unless a human knew to step over them they wold have been broken by someone carelessly walking through the door, so Alec lessened his suspicion of a human kidnapper, though he did not dismiss the possibility.

It was times like these he wished his cocktail included some kind of (gag- dare he say it?) tracking dog. Joshua (the transgenic, not the dog left behind in Missouri) would have been able to find the kids even if they were across town.

Alec traced his fingers over the door frame, and paused over one of the delicately scratched protective symbols. It was an obscure Indian symbol from the worshipers of Kali, meant to ward off and reveal trickery and disguises. It was currently scratched out, as though something had forced the circle past its breaking point.

Alec had found it in a book of mythology next to a little believed story of Kali taking a lover, some kind of raksha of mischief. After some kind of falling out, so the tale went, she banished him from her home with this symbol.

Alec had added it after that tangle with the trickster god in the forest. Looks like it paid off.

"Got you," he snarled.

Looks like Coyote wasn't as dead as Alec would have liked. No matter; that was easily amendable.

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So Only one more chapter to go I think. Unless I think up more fluff to throw in.

It feels so good right now to end this on a cliff hanger, because I can just imagine the looks on all your (my dear reader's) faces.

:)

but fear not, the end is nigh

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	7. Chapter 7

...spn...

don't own any'tin

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Arnie Smythe jingled his keys in the pocket of his faded blazer as he crossed the parking lot, fresh piece of bubblegum chomped between his teeth. Reaching his car, the keys dropped and he knelt down to get them. He heard a click behind his head.

"Get up slowly, and keep your hands where I can see them," the man standing behind him growled. Arnie did as the voice ordered, raising himself to his feet and turning to face his attacker.

"Listen man," he said, a tremor shaking his words, "I don't have any cash on me-"

Alec thrust the gun into the receptionist's face, silencing him. "Where are they?"

Coyote's human face grinned with to many teeth like the mask Alec first met him in. A bright pink bubble popped between them. "What gave me away?"

The safety clicked off. "You were the only one present at each crime scene. Now tell me where they are."

"Hold your horses tiger, your brats are safe. Relatively. They're asleep in their little beds back at that hovel you're living in. The littlest one might have issues with clowns in the future, but he'll live."

"Why should I believe you? Lying's in your job description."

The trickster nodded. "True enough, but it wasn't them I was trying to teach a lesson to. I don't hurt kids."

The transgenic bared his teeth. "You're trying to get to me by kidnaping children? Why? You not man enough to come at me yourself?"

"I'm here now aren't I? Besides this 'face to face' thing isn't nearly as fun. There's no poetry in it." It snapped its gum again. "Like Mr. Young upstairs: he thought it was fun to tell the people working the office floor to hit the road, so I thought he might like to do it himself. Literally." The trickster chuckled.

"Kidnaping is poetic?"

Golden eyes flashed and the grin flickered. "It is when I'm taking your prize for murder."

"I haven't killed any one," Alec growled. Recently, he mentally added.

"What about those kiddies' Daddy? He looks pretty dead to me."

"I didn't kill him."

"You distracted him at a crucial moment, letting big bad and hairy rip out his jugular."

"It was an accident."

"Then you snatch up his kids instead of leaving them with someone who is actually qualified to look after children."

"It's my responsibility to look after them."

"Because You're afraid of erasing your future?"

"What?"

"I've been around the block a few times kiddo, and you stink of time traveler." The trickster's golden eyes flashed in merriment. "Well, today's your lucky day Mr. Smart Alec! You don't have to look after those munchkins any more!"

"What?" he lowered his gun slightly, but kept it trained on the being before him.

"You're worried about destroying your future- and don't ask how I know: you smell like sparkles and tomorrow, so let's just leave it at that. I've been playing with the space time continuum since before your species was born, kid, so I can tell you from personal experience that nothing you do here will change the you that is standing in front of me. Think less Back to the Future paradoxes, and more Time Cop parallel dimensions."

Grinning Coyote spread out his hands. "So long story short, you're free to do whatever you want, without any strings or children attached."

Alec blinked. "Why are you telling me this?"

Sharp teeth clacked against a conjured hard candy. "I like you kid. Your spunk reminds me a bit of myself."

The transgenic tightened his hands on the trigger as he thought.

There was the chance that he was being lied to, but... Alec thought back to the instances which should have disrupted the entire time stream (killing John Winchester for one), yet left him immaculately whole and untampered with.

With no threat of non-existence hanging over his head, his whole reason for taking care of Dean and Sammy... just didn't exist.

The trickster was right, he was free to do whatever he wanted. No more parent teacher meetings, no more passing by that babe in the bar because there were two kids at home, no more questions he didn't have answers to, no more whining in the back seat, no more morning drills, no more prank wars... no more bedtime stories for Sammy (with Dean pretending not to listen on the other side of the bed). Never again seeing that hesitant grin on his mini-maker's face when Alec praised him for his spectacular aim, or that cross eyed look Sammy acquired when Alec flicked his nose.

All that, left as a memory if Alec cut his ties like the lone cat he wanted to be.

But...

There was something he wanted more than that now.

The realization struck Alec at needle point, then spread through his mind and body like hot smoke, making his stomach feel light.

He snarled and fired a warning shot past the Trickster's ear. "Those are my kids you're talking about, so can it before I give you a third eye."

The trickster's grin, if anything, widened. It sighed. "And here I am trying to do you a favor. There goes my good deed for the millennium!"

Alec fired a shot at it's head, but with a snap of fingers the trickster vanished.

He checked the apartment the trickster had been renting, and the office building it had been working at, but no one seemed to recall 'Arnie Smythe' or a man with golden eyes at all.

Even the trickster's surviving victims seemed ignorant of what exactly happened to them, though they remained emotionally and psychologically altered.

Finally facing defeat, Alec climbed into the Impala, and set his sight to the small apartment where two little boys waited for their uncle to come home.

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"Hey Singer, got another monster for me to kill?"

A gravely chuckle rumbled down the line. "Not this time, ya idjit. You told me to call if I could find out anything about what John Winchester was hunting before he died."

Alec hit mute on the TV. "What can you tell me?"

"You know what happened to his wife right? She was your cousin."

"I've heard accounts."

"Well John was hunting the thing that did it." Alec filed that bit of information away for further investigation. "I put in some calls to people he might have been in contact with."

"And?"

"And from what I've gathered, I think he was after a demon."

"A demon?"

"Yep. And that's not all: there's good evidence that it might have been following him and those two boys around the country."

Alec ran a hand over his face. "Trying to finish the job?"

"Looks like."

"Damn. Any way to ward it off?"

Pages rustled on the other line. "Salt, devil's trap- speaking the Lord's name will make it flinch."

"So I should pretend to be very religious?"

"If it helps."

He sighed. "Great."

Alec quietly shut the phone and leaned back into the overstuffed motel pillows. Slow breathing permeated the air with its peaceful rhythm, reminding Alec of the two kid shaped responsibilities sharing the opposite bed.

But, no, they weren't just that. Somewhere along the line they stopped being a self appointed body guard mission, and became something more, something important. It reminded Alec of the days before his unit was taken away from him.

He didn't care about Manticore any more; didn't care about whether or not they ever found Dean and created him. What really mattered to him right now was...

Alec pulled his knees to his chest till his bowed head rested gently against them. Max was right: the only good thing Manticore ever taught them was to take care of your unit.

Alec knew that without a conscious thought now.

He would keep those boys safe, no matter what it took.

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end-ies!

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Epilogue

Sam faced off against his brother in his small Stanford apartment.

Streetlight reflected off Dean's eyes, giving his dark visage a supernatural bearing. "Uncle Alec's missing."

Sam pulled his shirt straight, from where it went askew after his tussle on the floor thanks to his brother's unannounced visit to his Stanford apartment. "So?"

"So, I need your help going to find him. You're always stronger with your unit."

"I'm not your 'unit' Dean, I'm your brother. I hate it when you talk like we're in the military. Besides, he probably left you a note somewhere. He always does when an assignment takes too long."

"What makes you think he told me where he went?"

"He always liked you more than me."

Dean shrugged noncommittally. "Well, I checked all the usual places: nothing."

"You weren't hunting together?"

"I've been taking my own assignments for a while now," his brother said with pride."Look, I tracked his last hunt to a place up north. I can't do this one alone."

Sam thought of the last Winchester to go missing on a hunt, and how it brought an unexpected uncle into their lives. He sighed.

"Alright, where are we going?"

Dean smirked.

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Thus the Supernatural world turns. Sammy still has issues with authority, Dean had a bad case of hero worship, and family does the stupidest things with the best intentions. :P

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